


Richie Tozier (and the 7 things he is)

by MiloAaronRichie



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Awkward Boners, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deadlights (IT), Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Good Friend, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, More tags might be added later - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Pining, Reddie, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier Needs a Hug, Richie Tozier is Bad at Feelings, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Sad, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Harm, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, i think thats everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28877949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiloAaronRichie/pseuds/MiloAaronRichie
Summary: "Richie Tozier is the definition of a gay disaster.Don’t get me wrong, Richie Tozier has nice friends, a good family, a great career, and he’s not a bad looking guy.But his mind is totally fucked."ORRichie Tozier has a whole lot of issues, but Eddie fixes him up.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42
Collections: Have read this didn't forgot to save





	Richie Tozier (and the 7 things he is)

**Author's Note:**

> TW: SELF-HARM & SUICIDAL THOUGHTS
> 
> I love y'all <3

Richie Tozier is the definition of a gay disaster.

Don’t get me wrong, Richie Tozier has nice friends, a good family, a great career, and he’s not a bad looking guy.

But his mind is totally fucked.

That brings Richie to where he is now, blood running down his arms, huddled in a little ball against the bathroom door of his hotel room. This was a regular occurance for Richie. He’d take out his pocket knife, make as many cuts as he could before almost passing out, and then wait for them to barely heal over before doing it again. Rinse and repeat.

It isn’t Richie’s fault that he’s fucked up though. Ever since Derry he’d been like this. Ever since he was stuck in the deadlights. He’d watched Eddie die. Watched the love of his life be skewered like a shrimp on a shish kebab. Richie didn’t let it happen like that really though. Even though his reflexes weren’t quick enough to pull Eddie out of the way, they got him out of that literal shit hole and to the nearest hospital. Derry’s fucked up magic had healed the hole in Eddie’s torso in about three weeks and left him with nothing but a scar. 

Richie still felt guilty, however. He thought it was his fault. Once Eddie had gone back to New York, Richie wanted to die. He didn’t deserve that though, that was too quick, too easy. He deserved to suffer… or, at least, that’s what he had made himself believe. 

Richie started exiling himself from everyone. His career came to a stop so suddenly that he was sure everyone on the Richie-boat had a severe case of whiplash. 

He wanted to tour again, he wanted to be with his friends, his fans, his family, but something inside convinced him that he wanted to be alone more than he wanted social interaction. The last time he even talked to someone other than the woman at the front desk was when Mike called about two weeks to check on everyone. Richie told him he was doing fine.

Richie lied.

Richie was currently in Bangor, Maine. He wanted away from Derry, but couldn’t bring himself to go home. Too many people in LA knew his name, knew his face. He didn’t want to be recognized. He didn’t want to be seen. He didn’t want to be alive.

He didn’t answer phone calls anymore. He didn’t answer texts. He didn’t even listen to the thirty eight voicemails he had.

That is why Richie Tozier is a disaster.

The gay part however, has a much simpler answer.

Eddie Kaspbrak.

In no way did Eddie intend to make Richie gay, but he is definitely the main reason.

Richie loved Eddie. Richie  _ loves _ Eddie. 

Eddie Kaspbrak however, is a married man. Not happily married, mind you, but married nonetheless. Married to a woman. A giant 400 pound bitch of a woman. That woman also happened to have a repulsing resemblance to Eddie’s mother, so maybe Eddie was also a bit of a disaster, but he certainly wasn’t gay.

Or, at least, that what Richie had forced himself to believe. 

When he had asked Eddie about his marriage at Jade of the Orient, he hoped it would help him get over the twunk and move on.

It did the exact opposite.

Richie felt himself grow jealous and sad by this new piece of information, but Richie is not only a gay disaster, but is also a coward. So, he used his best and only defense… a joke about Eddie’s mother.

Richie had tried everything that night, joking about Eddie’s mom, drinking way too much, and even checking Ben out (which he could have sworn he saw Eddie do it too, but he thought it was just his drunk mind). 

Richie had arm wrestled Eddie that night. As a joke Eddie had told Richie that they should ‘take their shirts off and kiss’, but all that did was make Richie force a laugh and fight the embarrassing boner that was made 10 times worse.

So yeah, Richie’s pretty fucking gay.

He looked down at his arms which were now a disgusting rust color from the scars and dried blood. His jeans had brown splotches from where his blood had dripped onto them. His hawaiian shirt was also covered in blood around the bottom. He was surprised he wasn’t dead with how much blood there really was this time.

‘Note to self,’ he thought, ‘be more careful next time.’ 

He liked the sight, sure, it felt like he was getting what he deserved. He couldn't let himself die though… at least, not yet.

He sighed and mustered enough strength to pull himself up off the tile floor and into the main room. He flopped onto the bed, face down. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, and he wanted to hide, he just didn’t know what to do first.

Just as he was about to scream into his pillow, he heard a voice outside his door. 

A familiar voice.

A familiar voice that spoke mostly in expletives.

“God fucking damnit.” The voice muttered quite loudly.

Richie thought he was really going insane now. He was hearing voices, and not just any voice, but Eddie’s voice.

‘You’ve really done it now Tozier,’ he thought, ‘let's go find you a straight jacket.’ He laughed a little to himself.

That’s when he heard the door next to his unlock. And then he heard suitcases, not one, but three. And then the sound of multiple duffel bags hitting the floor. And then more cursing.

“Holy shit.” He said out loud.

He quickly ran to his dresser and threw on a new long sleeve shirt and some sweatpants. He raced out his door without even putting his shoes on, and sure as shit, there he was. 

Eddie Kaspbrak. In the flesh. Standing in his hotel room with a wide open door while trying to juggle way more bags than anyone should ever have.

Richie was thinking with his heart, not his mind. While his heart was saying ‘Go to him. Be together!’ his mind was saying ‘Do you really think he wants to see you after you almost got him killed and then ignored him?’

For once, Richie decided to listen to his heart.

He walked quickly into Eddie’s room and grabbed two bags out of his arms.

“What the fu-” Eddie started before looking up.

“Um… hey.”

“You’re alive!?!” Eddie practically screamed.

“Yeah…” Richie said while trailing off. 

“So you’ve just been ignoring all of us?” Eddie asked with the little fire he’s always had inside of him.

Richie's mind screamed at him. It was a constant stream of ‘worthless, I told you so, go fuck up your arms some more, why don’t‘cha?

“Sorry.” Richie said quietly. He felt like crying.

Suddenly he was in Eddie’s arms. Eddie had dropped everything he had in his hands and wrapped Richie in a rib-shattering hug. Richie stood there awkwardly for a moment before returning the hug.

“You scared me.” Eddie mumbled into his chest.

“You shouldn’t have worried. I’m fine.” Richie said.

Richie lied.

“Then why aren’t you in LA?” Eddie asked skeptically as he hesitantly let Richie go.

“Marketing stunt.”

Richie lied.

“Since when do you not only wear t-shirts?” Eddie asked while reaching for a sleeve.

Richie ripped his arm away quickly. Too quickly. “It’s cold.”

Richie lied.

“Why have you been ignoring us?” Eddie asked.

“I’ve been busy.”

Richie lied.

And Eddie saw right through all of them.

Richie hated marketing stunts. He saw them as ‘patronizing bullshit’. That was strike one. Richie didn’t wear long sleeves even when it was cold, and it hadn’t been below 74 degrees for the past two weeks. That was strike two. And judging by Richie’s tired, unshaven, hollow look, he was sure as hell not busy. That was strike three. And Richie Tozier was out.

Eddie knew that Derry had quite the emotional, physical, and mental toll on everyone involved. He suspected something was wrong with Richie, but only now he was absolutely positively sure. 

“So what brings you back to Maine?” Richie asked as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Myra and I finally got a divorce. I thought she’d never agree. She did though after what felt like way more convincing than necessary. I wasn’t happy, Rich. I doubt she was either, but I don’t think she’ll ever admit that.” Eddie explained, “I didn’t really know where to go, so I booked a room for a few days here in Bangor and decided to go from there. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

oh.

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Now Richie felt like an asshole. If he’d have had his shit together, he could have invited Eddie to stay with him. He still can. 

Once he figures his own shit out.

Or, at least, that's what he should do.

But Richie Tozier is a gay disasterous coward and the last thing he wants to do is evaluate his problems.

So, Richie Tozier skips that step. And every single other step. He’d make a real plan later.

“I’m sorry.” Richie says. Again.

“Don’t be, this is honestly good for me.”

Richie just looks at Eddie and puts a sad attempt at a smile on his face

“I missed you.” Eddie said. He sounded sincere.

“I missed you too.” Richie said as he choked back tears. He couldn’t let himself start crying, not now, not in front of Eddie.

“I’m going to unpack, but you can stay if you want. I'd really like to talk to you more." Eddie said.

"Oh, um... okay," Richie said quietly while unknowingly tugging at his sleeves.

Eddie knew. He did. He couldn't tell Richie that though, not yet. All he could do now was not let him be alone. 

Richie walked over to the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room and sat on the edge. He wanted to ask Eddie a million questions.

'Are you mad?'

'Can I stay here tonight?'

'Did you really miss me?'

'Will you come home with me?'

But that isn't what cowards do.

So, Richie just sat quietly on the bed, watching Eddie put his clothes into little drawers. He eventually started zoning out, thinking about how he got here... why he's still here. He didn't even realize Eddie had asked him a question until he saw him staring down at him.

"Huh?" Richie asked as he shook himself out of his head.

"I said, what's wrong? You didn't make a single joke about me being a neat freak and you aren't even this quiet when you're asleep." Eddie laughed a bit but had a concerned expression on his face.

"Oh, uh, your mom," Richie said.

Eddie's face didn't change.

Eddie knelt down in front of where Richie was sitting on the bed.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" Eddie asked while grabbing Richie's hands.

Richie winced at the contact. Eddie had partially grabbed his right wrist and Richie was sure it didn't go unnoticed.

He was right.

"Rich..." Eddie said quietly... knowingly.

"I've got to go. See ya around Eds." Richie said as he stood quickly, almost knocking Eddie over, and left the room.

Eddie felt awful when he saw Richie's door shut. He didn't know what to do, but he certainly didn't want to leave Richie alone. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket and immediately found Bev's contact. He wanted to call her. She was close with Richie and knew him better than most people (except Eddie), but it wasn't Eddie's place to expose Richie, especially when he wasn't even supposed to know himself.

Eddie grabbed his keycard and walked carefully out of his room. He quietly shut his door and went to the one on his left. He knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Silence.

"I swear to fucking God, Richie..." Eddie mumbled quietly to himself.

Finally, as a last resort, he sighed and knocked 'shave and a haircut' onto the door in front of him.

It was silent for a minute before he heard a small 'two bits' from the other side. He let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

"Rich, could you open the door please?" Eddie asked gently.

"Why?" Richie asked wetly. 

'He's crying.' Eddie thought to himself. He felt his heart shatter for a moment.

"Because I want to see you," Eddie explained.

Richie sighed and put his pocket knife back into his pocket. He was planning on mutilating his thighs once he was done crying. He wiped his eyes and tried to hold himself together as best as he could. He opened the door and was met with the classic 'Kaspbrak puppy-dog eyes'.

"What can I do for ya, Eds?" Richie asked with a fake smile.

Eddie just shoved passed him and sat himself down on Richie's bed.

"C'mere." He said plainly.

Richie listened and walked over to Eddie’s bed. Eddie patted the spot next to him and Richie took that as his cue to sit.

"Can I see?" Eddie asked. He put his hand on Richie's thigh and drew little patterns on it.

"See what?" Richie asked as he unintentionally leaned into Eddie's touch.

"Your arms," Eddie said. Richie came back down to earth and backed away a bit.

"W-why?" He asked. 

"Richie..." There was that knowing look again.

"I-I can't, um..." Richie started stumbling over his words even more now.

"Rich, you can trust me," Eddie said comfortingly.

Richie then stood up and ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He leaned over the toilet, a few of his untamed curls falling over his eyes.

Richie Tozier is a gay disastrous coward that doesn’t want to fix his own shit and throws up when he gets nervous.

So that's exactly what he does.

The sound of Richie throwing up what little contents were in his stomach made Eddie recoil, but he tried to ignore it. He faced a killer space clown, he could handle a little vomit.

It felt like an odd sense of deja-vu, Eddie standing, knocking, at Richie's door while waiting for a real response. This time, however, it wasn't silent, but the only sound heard was Richie heaving.

"Rich, I'm coming in," Eddie said quietly as he pushed on the door. As it opened, he found Richie on his knees, elbows propped up on the toilet, tears streaming down his face.

"I'm sorry." Richie sobbed.

"Hey, it's okay," Eddie said. He sat down on the tile floor to rub Richie's back.

Richie closed his eyes and smiled at Eddie's touch.

"You don't have to show me if you aren't ready. I just want to help you." Eddie smiled at him.

That broke Richie.

Because Richie is a gay disastrous coward that doesn’t want to fix his own shit, throws up when he gets nervous, and can't control his emotions.

Richie sobbed and Eddie wrapped him up in his arms. He held him like that for a while, rubbing his back, placing little kisses to his head, and whispering soothing words to him. When Richie finally collected himself after about ten minutes, he thanked Eddie, went to the sink to brush the taste of vomit out of his mouth, then sat on the bed.

"Do you want to watch some movies and order some Chinese food?" Eddie asked.

Richie smiled. Actually smiled. For the first time in what felt like years.

"I'd love that." He said.

Eddie smiled back sincerely and sat up against the headboard. Richie scooted up to join him and they slowly ended up tangling themselves together.

By the time the food had arrived and they were halfway through The Empire Strikes Back (apon Richie's choice), Eddie had his head on Richie's chest and Richie had his arm around him. Their legs looked like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fit together perfectly.

They untangled all of their limbs to answer the door and start eating. When Eddie had brought the fortune cookies, shrimp lo mein, crab rangoons, and orange chicken over to the bed where Richie still was, Richie pulled him back into his arms, and Eddie comfortably stayed settled there.

They grabbed their little white boxes of food and chopsticks. Richie rolled up his sleeves a bit out of habit and tore into the lo mein. It had been a while since he'd ingested something other than booze and junk food.

Eddie kept glancing over at Richie's arms. Some cuts look fresh, open, about to start gushing blood, some looked about half scabbed over, and others were already just deep scars. That meant Richie had been doing this for a while. Eddie felt even worse than he did before. He would try to sneak his glances when he thought Richie was either paying attention to the TV or to the food in front of him, but he wasn't always successful.

"You can look at them you know. They aren't the deadlights. They won't paralyze you." He said through a mouthful of noodles.

"I'm sorry," Eddie said.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. You didn't do this."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Eddie knew it was a risky question and he definitely didn't want Richie throwing up the food he had just eaten.

Richie froze. He thought it over for a bit before he finally spoke.

"I guess I have to eventually, huh?" Richie asked with a little laugh.

"I would like it if you did," Eddie said quietly.

"I get depressed about my life and I do stupid things. This was just some stupid thing I did. I was drunk and feeling melodramatic. You shouldn't worry, really, I'm fine."

"Rich, we all get sad about our lives. And I'm no expert, but you don't get this many scars from doing this once while you were drunk." Eddie said flatly.

'I never said I only did it once.' Richie added, but only in his head. He was not about to tell Eddie that he drank to forget.

"You seem pretty sober now. And these look fresh." Eddie said while running his thumb across an almost open gash in Richie's wrist.

Richie winced and resisted the urge to pull away. Eddie was right. Richie was out of bourbon and didn't even have enough energy to go out and get more, so the cuts today were an act of one sober and sad Richie Tozier.

"What um- what did you use?" Eddie asked, now running his thumb along a scar.

Richie sighed and pulled a rust-colored pocket knife out of his pocket. It had been silver only a few weeks before. 

Eddie slowly took the blood-stained knife from Richie's hands and looked at it. His face fell a bit and he had tears fighting to spill. He had to stay strong though. For Richie.

"Can I hang on to this? Until you feel better?" Eddie asked carefully.

Richie nodded and smiled a bit. Maybe Eddie didn't hate him. But he needed to know for sure.

"Do you hate me?" Richie asked suddenly.

"Rich... I could never hate you for thi-"

"Not for this." Richie cut him off.

"Richie, I could never hate you in general. You could punch me in the face, and I'd be absolutely pissed, but I still wouldn't hate you."

"Even though I almost got you killed?" Richie asked.

"So that's what... this," Eddie gestured to Richie's arms, "is about?" 

"Kinda," Richie answered.

"Chee, you carried me out of that damn house and stayed with me the entire time in the hospital. You left _ after  _ I did. Despite people telling you to leave you wouldn't. That was literally the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me." Eddie ranted.

"I still feel awful though." Richie hid his face in his hands.

Eddie grabbed Richie's hands and pulled them away from his face. 

"Look at me Rich. I'm fine. I'm right here. Nothing was your fault."

Richie gave Eddie a sad smile and wanted nothing more at that moment than to kiss him, but he didn't do that.

Because Richie Tozier is a gay disastrous coward that doesn’t want to deal with his own shit, throws up when he gets nervous, can't control his emotions, and hesitates on every decision.

He waited too long, and just like that, Eddie had already backed up a bit and let go of his hands.

"Come with me," Eddie said while getting up.

"Why? The movie isn't even over yet." Richie said. He did have a valid point though, there was about thirty minutes left.

"Because you, sir, have an appointment with Dr. K," Eddie said with a smile and an eye roll.

Richie laughed a bit. A genuine happy laugh. And got up to follow Eddie. He wasn't sure why he needed Dr. K, but he'd do anything to have Eddie start using his own stupid nicknames.

Richie followed Eddie to his bathroom and sat up on top of the counter. It reminded him of being 15 again, getting into fights with Bowers, and then sneaking into Eddie's house through his bedroom window for some medical assistance. Eddie always acted annoyed, but he never denied Richie his care.

Eddie grabbed one of his ten or so duffel bags and opened it. It was like a larger-scale version of the fannypack-pharmacy Eddie carried around as a child.

Eddie took out a cotton ball and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He dumped some onto the cotton ball and held it up to Richie's wrist.

"Is this okay?" He asked.

Richie just nodded and watched with a full heart.

"This might hurt a little," Eddie said.

And he was right, it stung. The sting caused Richie to physically recoil just a bit. Eddie noticed this and muttered a quick 'sorry' while he focused.

"You need to keep these clean. They could get infected really easily." Eddie explained as he continued.

Eddie finished cleaning up both wrists and went to wrap Richie's arms with bandages.

"You don't need to do that," Richie said while trying to pull his arms away. 

Eddie held his arms in place and wrapped them anyway.

"No one is going to judge you, Rich."

It was like he could read Richie's mind. 

"Really? Because now it just looks like I tried and I failed, which is even worse." Richie mumbled under his breath.

"I heard that. Don't say things like that. You look fine." Eddie said as he finished wrapping them both.

Eddie ended his little doctor session by placing a kiss on each of Richie's wrists. Richie was speechless.

"There. Please don't ever make me do that again though." Eddie pleaded with sad eyes.

"Deal... thank you," Richie said. He was looking at his bandaged wrists. The wrists that Eddie had just kissed. “I think I’m going to head to bed. It’s getting late.” 

“Really? We haven’t even finished the movie yet. It’s barely nine o’clock.” Eddie said, confused.

In all honesty, Richie wasn’t even that tired, but this is more affection in one day than he’s received in weeks, and considering that said affection came from the one and only Edward Kaspbrak, Richie was rock hard and ridiculously emotional. So was Richie going to bail on Eddie to go jackoff and probably cry? Yes, yes he was.

“Can we at least finish the movie?” Eddie asked.

He looked a little sad.

“Yeah,” Richie finally said with a smile.

Fuck his dick, it could wait. Right now, the most beautiful man in the world wanted to cuddle with him and there was no way in _hell_ he was going to pass up on that opportunity.

They cuddled back up in the bed and almost finished the movie. By the time the credits had started, they were both asleep. Eddie was laying on Richie’s chest and Richie had both of his arms around the smaller man. Their legs were tangled together perfectly and Richie had his face partially buried in Eddie’s hair.

Richie Tozier is a gay disastrous coward that doesn’t want to deal with his own shit, throws up when he gets nervous, can't control his emotions, hesitates on every decision, and is borderline unbearable at times… But Eddie Kaspbrak makes that all better.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hangout on Twitter!  
> @MiloAaronRichie  
> (maybe it'll actually make me post something)


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